


A Different Halloween

by AdaMarina



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Also references Donald and Della being raised by Scrooge instead of Grandma Duck, But that's not a bad thing, Donald and the triplets get a little too into Halloween, Family, Halloween, family traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 12:51:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12582292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdaMarina/pseuds/AdaMarina
Summary: The triplets and Donald do Halloween just a little differently.Scrooge had almost forgotten how talented Donald was at cooking.





	A Different Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> Because in the comics Donald was a good cook and Scrooge loved his cooking, so I decided to play with that a bit. And Donald and Scrooge haven't spoken for ten years so I think Donald would have developed his own family tradition around Halloween, and now that he and Scrooge are speaking again Scrooge is being welcomed into it.
> 
> I wanted to add Gladstone in, to be honest, but I just couldn't figure out where he would fit into this tradition. So maybe he'll be brought into their traditions in the future, after he and Donald have sorted their problems out.

Halloween was just a little different for Donald and his nephews.

Halloween was a time of year where Donald loosened up and got just as into the spooks

(though he spooked very easily)

and specters

(though sometimes these only managed to make him laugh, but now they understood why- for someone who had seen and fought _real_ specters, to look upon cheap paper cliche ghosts and bedsheet-clad children bursting out of closets with a thunderclap track from the boombox must have been downright hilarious)

and Dewey’s insistence on playing Thriller on repeat over and over again

(Donald had never listened to Thriller before Dewey “discovered” it and he didn’t particularly _like_ it if he was honest, but now he knew all the words and all the dance moves and occasionally found himself humming it under his breath, much to his own frustration)

and he and his nephews would make a family event out of the entire month.

They would decorate the houseboat together- fake webs, fake spiders, a witch crashing into the wall outside, a string of orange and green lights,

(Huey practically begged Donald to get them, revealing he’d saved several months’ worth of allowance in order to cover the cost. Donald bought them but let Huey keep his money anyway; he’d had a little extra from a job that, miraculously, hadn’t fallen through within a few days.)

a skeleton in the houseboat’s driving chair, a cauldron-bowl in the middle of the table, a carved pumpkin next to the door and all sorts of other things.

Then came the costumes. They didn’t _buy_ costumes- Donald just couldn’t afford that- but instead would make their costumes with things slowly collected over the years. Donald would let them watch him stitch and sew their costumes together, even allowing them to help,

(Louie was fascinated by the process; he loved how a simple orange fabric could be taken and with careful placement of thread, a little wire, and some plastic be turned into a wide-brimmed pumpkin hat)

and without fail they each would have a unique, hand-made costume by the time Halloween arrived, always different every year.

They weren’t the best when compared to the costumes other kids had

(but as Huey often pointed out most of _those_ costumes were factory-made en masse and the parents and kids literally just went out and picked one, while their own costumes were their own unique ideas that their uncle- and sometimes they themselves- spent hours labouring over, one of a kind costumes that no one else would ever own)

but they wore them with pride, knowing just how hard their uncle worked to make them just the way they each wanted.

Halloween would come around and Donald would allow them to go with their friends instead- _“As long as there’s an adult and you text me every half hour so I know where you are”-_ while he stayed home and made a special Halloween dinner and dessert.

Their Halloween was just a little different from the other kids’ in their class, but really? They didn’t care.

As far as they were concerned, the rest of the world was missing out.

* * *

Halloween at the mansion was different, too.

Scrooge had never really been one to celebrate Halloween- not since Donald and Della were still living with him, anyway. It seemed like a useless holiday to him, though he had never denied Donald and Della their desire to decorate or dress up and run around doing whatever it was children and teenagers did on Halloween night.

(He was not fond, however, of waking up to a giant spider or dismembered doll’s head on the pillow next to him; he vividly remembered, in his sleep-clouded state, letting out a startled shriek and jerking backwards out of bed while twin laughter erupted from right outside his door. No, he definitely was not fond of the little pranks and scares his kids used to pull on him, no matter how hard it was to fight off a smile at the memories.)

So for ten years Scrooge would sit in his study, reading a new financial report, while the world outside his home went on with decorating and festivities. Gone were the days of pranks and decorating, of carving pumpkins and buying themed candy, of having to keep up with energetic children who just  _had_ to go trick-or-treating, of buying costumes and listening to two children plot everything they were going to do.

All that remained was silence.

However, everything suddenly changed again; Donald was back, and Huey, Dewey and Louie followed. Scrooge hadn’t expected their version of Halloween to come with them.

“I’m gonna be a mummy this year,” Dewey announced one night at dinner, looking at his brothers. “Like the mummies of Toth-ra!”

“Typical,” Louie snorted, shaking his head slightly.

“Well _I’m_ gonna be a vampire this time,” Huey told Dewey and Louie with a wicked smile, as if he had fangs of his own to show off. Neither of the younger triplets looked impressed, instead exaggeratedly rolling their eyes.

“Can I be Frankenstein?” Louie asked, looking over at Donald as if seeking approval.

“If that’s what you want,” Donald answered with a slight nod. “Frankenstein’s not _that_ hard to make.”

“Frankenstein’s monster,” Huey whispered a correction. Dewey promptly elbowed him. “Ow!”

“What are you talking about?” Webby asked curiously, tilting her head at them.

“Halloween costumes,” Louie answered, leaning back in his seat. “Uncle Donald and we make them every year.”

“Oh...”

“What are you dressing up as?” Dewey asked her.

“Oh, I’m not,” she told him with an almost-careless shrug. Almost, because Scrooge could tell she _wanted_ to. “I never do.”

The triplets frowned and looked at each other, as if having a silent conversation. Then, almost as one, they turned to Mrs. Beakley and asked, “Can Webby go trick-or-treating with us?”

“Uncle Donald keeps tabs on us,” Huey added, as if the distant parental supervision would sway her choice.

“And we stay out of the bad side of town,” Dewey put in, giving her a big smile that Scrooge knew wasn’t necessary.

“And we’re usually with other kids and their parents anyway,” Louie finished off, giving her his most innocent face- one that almost worked in the opposite way, if you asked the trillionaire.

“If Webby wants to go, she can,” Mrs. Beakley told the three boys who let out a cheer. It shouldn't have been  _that_ big of a deal, Scrooge thought- after all, Webby went on adventures with them all the time. 

Webby, however, seemed to be vibrating in her chair, eyes wide in excitement.

“I’ll take her to get a costume,” Mrs. Beakley continued, but Donald cut her off.

“That’s not necessary,” he told her before turning to Webby. “What do you want to be for Halloween? We’ll make it when we make the boys’.”

Webby’s eyes widened somehow further and she smiled so brightly Scrooge thought, for just a moment, he’d go blind.

"Can I be a ninja?" she asked almost reverently.

"If that's what you want, sure!"

Webby squealed happily, “Thank you!”

Scrooge hadn’t even known Donald knew how to sew.

* * *

The decorations just began appearing one day. 

Scrooge didn’t mind; it wasn’t like he had any businessmen or anything visiting, and it was nice to see the mansion so lively. The last time anyone had obsessively decorated the mansion was Donald and Della, the last year they had all celebrated Halloween together.

So maybe Scrooge _accidentally_ let slip about the old decorations in the attic. _Maybe_ he mentioned to Launchpad about the ladder in the garage. Maybe, just maybe, he kind of liked watching the four children and Launchpad dragging Donald along to decorate the mansion, much the same way Donald and Della had done to Scrooge twenty years ago, and maybe he liked the fond exasperation on Donald’s face that he, himself, was once upon a time all too familiar with.

Maybe he didn’t complain as much as he could have when, suddenly, Louie latched onto his arm and pulled him into the fray, demanding that as part of the family he help decorate.

(And maybe when Beakley finally showed up Scrooge was the one to rope her into helping as well, because she was as much part of the family as Webby was.)

Either way, there was laughter and for the first time in ten years everything felt truly alright. He was able to stand next to Donald, watching Webby and Dewey stick ghosts into the windows, with no awkward distance between them, no hostile air around them, no blame, no resentment... only a happy familiarity.

Maybe, though Donald wasn’t likely to say so, maybe Donald was thinking of the past, too.

* * *

Through some sort of witchcraft the old duck could not figure out, he found himself in a crowded little boathouse

(even though there was so much more space in the mansion, the boathouse was where the children insisted on it being)

sitting across the table from Donald, watching in fascination as his nephew turned two unseemly pieces of fabric into a vampire’s somewhat-elegant cloak.

Huey, Dewey and Webby sat on the floor, carefully cutting fabric- some old, some new- with the patterns Donald had given and instructed them on, while Louie stood next to Donald, seeming to intently study exactly how the pieces were put together.

“You do this every year?” Scrooge suddenly asked Donald, who simply nodded in confirmation.

“Uncle Donald prefers something handmade to something mass produced,” Huey piped up from his place on the floor. “Says it’s more original and unique that way!”

Scrooge caught the way Donald’s gaze flickered over towards the children, and he knew that was, certainly, not the only reason Donald chose to labour over silly costumes. He wisely decided not to say so aloud.

“I see,” he said instead. “I didn’t know you knew how to sew, Donald.”

“I learned,” Donald told him, shrugging slightly. He didn’t explain further but he didn’t have to; Scrooge understood. It was cheaper to fix and make things himself than to go and buy something new.

“Hey, Uncle Donald, can I try?” Louie asked, and Donald nodded slightly, allowing Louie to take the reins. He kept an eye on Louie’s work, though, giving him instruction when the duckling seemed to hesitate or stumble.

“Uncle Scrooge, are you gonna join us for Halloween?” Dewey asked innocently from his place on the floor, and Scrooge looked over at him, raising a brow.

“I do nae fancy walking ‘round the city with children running wild,” he answered simply. He had done enough of that when Donald and Della were small- it was hard enough to move through crowds of children to keep up with his own, but the way the supervising adults looked at him, recognizing him for who he was... well, he didn't like it all that much.

Donald snorted. “That’s not what they meant, Uncle Scrooge.”

“We meant, are you gonna join us for dinner?” Huey clarified, nudging Dewey.

“Dinner?” he repeated, confused. He didn’t remember part of Halloween traditions having a special dinner, or whatnot.

Plus, they always ate dinner together now. Why even ask if he’d be joining them?

“Well,” Huey started, sitting up and setting his scissors aside, “every year while we’re out trick-or-treating, Uncle Donald makes a themed dinner.”

“Last year it was macaroni casserole in the shape of a cadaver!” Dewey threw in gleefully.

“Two years ago it was meatloaf in the shape of Frankenstein’s head,” Louie added with a grin, not taking his eyes off his work.

Scrooge gave Donald a strange look- that certainly didn’t sound like his nephew, after all, his nephew who wouldn’t even let the triplets or Webby on deck without a life jacket- and Donald just shrugged, keeping his gaze on Louie’s hands.

“It’s fitting,” he defended needlessly.

“But the best part is the dessert,” Dewey stated matter-of-factly, earning an eye-roll from both of the adults in the room. “It’s different every year!”

“Last year was a coffin cake,” Louie almost cackled. “It was _awesome.”_

“Coffin cake?” Webby sounded a little more excited about that than Scrooge thought she should have. “What’s that?”

“A cake made to look like a coffin,” Huey explained helpfully. “See, it’s a two-layer cake, with a thicker layer on bottom and thinner on top.”

“The inside had a hollow bit,” Dewey picked up, looking at Webby with a grin, “for some red cream stuff that Uncle Donald put inside it, and between the layers to stick them together.”

“Then he put chocolate icing on the cake, to look like wood,” Louie continued, pausing in his work to look over at Webby. “He decorated it, too! Looked like it had hinges and everything, and looked like it was oozing whatever was on the inside.”

Scrooge looked at Donald. “That does nae sound like ye,” he commented, and Donald just shrugged again.

“It’s so cool,” Dewey snickered, grinning over at Scrooge. “Uncle Donald loves Halloween, too. He really pulls out all the stops!”

“And it’s always delicious,” Louie concluded with a sagely nod, which was mirrored by his brothers. Webby just looked absolutely delighted.

“When they were younger I went with simple pumpkin pies and witch fingers,” Donald told Scrooge, as if to somewhat defend his reputation as the overprotective father-figure who would not allow even fake gore around his children. Scrooge almost started laughing.

“Uncle Donald, when we were six you made a zombie head cake, complete with brain and missing eye,” Louie deadpanned. The laugh escaped Scrooge before he could even attempt to sop it.

“To be fair we _were_ obsessed with zombies that year,” Huey pointed out.

“Still!”

Scrooge sat back, feeling strangely warm. They were all laughing and arguing playfully while getting back to their tasks, and the old duck felt some satisfaction in knowing that some things never changed.

No matter how much Donald seemed to have grown, he was still practically a child when it came to Halloween.

* * *

It had taken some time for Scrooge to convince Donald and the triplets to do the dinner inside the manor instead, citing that it would be too crowded in the boathouse with them, Scrooge, Webby, Mrs. Beakley _and_ Launchpad.

Thankfully they saw his point, and instead of doing everything in the little boathouse’s limited kitchen Donald found himself in the manor kitchen, doing everything for once not alone but with help from both Mrs. Beakley and Scrooge.

(Launchpad would have been there too, but the triplets and Webby asked him to go with them since they had decided _not_ to go with Huey, Dewey and Louie’s school friends who didn’t know Webby, and they didn’t want to risk Donald getting in trouble for there being unattended minors in the streets)

Mrs. Beakley definitely knew what she was doing much better than Scrooge did, but Donald didn’t seem mind. The old duck was having a good, but exhausting, time as he tried to handmix frosting together- _“Don’t overdo it, Uncle Scrooge,”-_ while Mrs. Beakley helped Donald finish up dinner.

It was a simple dinner this year- they had all agreed that they’d much rather focus the intricacy on the dessert than the dinner- so they had chosen to do pasta and meatballs with toast. Only, the pasta was thick and long and somewhat red from food colouring

(and Scrooge wasn’t sure if it looked like brains or intestines but it certainly looked macabre, somehow without being an appetite killer, but that might have been the fact the smell clearly screamed “pasta” and Scrooge _liked_ pasta)

and he had no doubt the children would love it. The sauce itself was deep red- tomato sauce- and the meatballs were coated with parmesan and looked suspiciously like eyes staring up at them.

Scrooge knew the gore factor would be lessened somewhat when they mixed it together on plates and the cheese was spread out, diluting the colour of the sauce and noodles, but at the moment it looked perfectly Halloween.

As for dessert? The cakes were long out of the oven, cooling and waiting to be decorated. Scrooge found himself strangely excited for it, and he couldn’t help but think both Donald and Mrs. Beakley had outdone themselves.

There were eight little- and eight even smaller- spherical cakes and one large, but thin, circular cake sitting on a cooling rack. The spherical cakes were vanilla while the thin cake was marbled, and sitting on a counter a few feet away were several squeeze tubes, icing spatulas and bowls of icing mixed earlier.

“Your icing looks good, Uncle Scrooge,” Donald told him and Scrooge almost cried in relief.

“Me arm!” he sighed, setting the bowl down and rubbing his aching forearm.

“That’s what happens when you want to do it by hand,” Donald snorted, setting the tinfoil-covered food in the oven to keep warm. "I told you to use a beater."

(But a beater just wasn't Scrooge's style, and even Donald had admitted he preferred to use a spoon rather than a beater. Something about it being easier to know when it was ready.)

“The cakes are cooled,” Mrs. Beakley said, and Scrooge carried the last bowl of icing over to where the cakes were waiting.

Although they were all the same flavour, there were a few bowls of different coloured icing- dyes were, Scrooge had discovered, a wonderful tool when you needed to decorate without ruining the flavour combinations.

Donald had looked almost offended when he had suggested lime icing for the desired green accents, and Mrs. Beakley didn’t look much better.

_“Lime and chocolate?!”_

Scrooge, admittedly, wasn’t the best at baking.

But now everything was done and there were multiple icing colours- dark brown, white, red, green and orange among them- waiting to be applied, each one tasting of sweet chocolate or vanilla, and Scrooge was- though he’d never say it out loud- a bit eager to see just how Donald and Mrs. Beakley would bring everything together.

“Hey, Uncle Scrooge,” Donald suddenly started, turning to him. “Want to ice the base while Mrs. B and I put the spiders together?”

Scrooge couldn’t help but smile. “I’d love tae.”

* * *

When the boys, Webby and Launchpad returned home not long after, it was to a deliciously macabre pasta dinner and a spider cake.

The base was frosted in dark brown, making the pale white lines crossing over and around- a bit wavy, as though with an unsteady, unpracticed hand that told them Scrooge was involved- in the shape of a web stand out more. It was already cut into eight perfectly-even pieces, each slice with a proud looking spider on top, each with a different colour and pattern and hard chocolate legs.

The children were delighted and Scrooge decided he really liked this new old Halloween tradition that Donald and the triplets had brought with them.

It was more work than what he’d gone through with Donald and Della, certainly, but it was _fun,_ and Donald was smiling, Huey was laughing, Dewey was making up stories with Launchpad about the pasta, Louie and Webby were recounting the night to Beakley and they were all so happy, and that made Scrooge happy.

Yes, he liked this Halloween tradition.

It felt good.

It felt right.

(It felt like family.)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> Also disclaimer, I love Thriller, I just don't imagine it being Donald's style.


End file.
